Run, Boy, Run
by Yr Alban
Summary: And he pretends he doesn't hear Rory's relieved sigh or Amy's breath hitch or his scratched and dented heart fall to the glass floor, shattering completely.
1. Beta

**Copyright infringement not intended.  
>Warnings: Strong language, not-being-from-the-UK, sexuality and other mature themes.<br>Pairing: Eleven/Amy, Eleven/Amy/(Rory), Rory/Amy, Eleven/River, River/Eleven/Amy.  
>Part: 12.  
>AN: I'm so, so, so, sorry for the late update! I spent the entire weekend watching series five with my mum and up to the newest episodes and arguing about the merits of Eleven/Amy and River and Rory and that damn kid! But, oh my God, does the next episode not look AMAHZING? See my profile for an amazingly special link, full of teasers and speculations. (:**

**Andd read the bottom for a special announcement! Rightio, off you go, my loves.**

* * *

><p>BETA<p>

_The dog days are over,  
>The dog days are done;<br>The horses are coming  
>So you better run.<em>

* * *

><p>i.<p>

She's young. Not compared to him, even in human terms. She's barely twenty-two and she's so ready to exchange her old life for a new, shining and deceivingly pretty life that he is offering stupidly. It's almost like kidnapping.

It almost makes him feel guilty. It almost makes him take her back to Leadworth. It almost makes him take back every promise he made to her.

But, then, she turns to him, her fiery hair settling around her glowing face in sleep-tousled waves and, dear Rassilon, her _eyes_. She may be physically and emotionally twenty-two, but mentally? She is so much older.

Because in her eyes, he swears to every God he's ever heard of that he can _see_ those fourteen years that she waited. He can see how she grew and how she learned not to trust easily and not to throw her emotions around wildly, because of _him_. And he's cruel, but isn't this cruel.

He could never leave her behind, no matter how young she is.

ii.

His blood is boiling and his hearts are pounding in his chest furiously. He hasn't ever been this angry, not in his new body at least. It swells in him, churning his stomach fiercely.

"_I'm.. I'm sorry,_" his suddenly weak ginger companion apologises, sounding truly at a loss for what to do. He doesn't want an apology, he wants anger, he wants _fire_! He wants Donna Noble, telling him not to talk to her that way, telling him to stop acting like a Martian or something else incredibly mad.

"_Oh, I don't care_," he says venomously, his eyes flickering across her face. She's hurt, it's obvious, and each word he says is like a physical blow. "_As soon as we're done here, I'm taking you home_."

He can't look her in the eye as he speaks those dreadful, traitorous words, turning away from her and marching back to the controls. He doesn't want her to go, he won't live up to his promise if he doesn't have to. It's just.. He's _so_ angry and he doesn't know how to handle the youthful energy that is twisting with fury.

"_Why?_" She asks and there _you go_! There's that feisty, stubborn, ginger-y Scottish woman that he knows she is and has seen in her. There's that reluctance to back down from a fight or a challenge. "_Because I made a mistake?_"

He doesn't look up, even as he hears her approach.

"_One mistake? I can't even remember doing it - Doctor!_" She hits the ledge with her flat palm, no longer asking for his undivided attention. She's _demanding_ it.

"_Yeah, I know._" He informs her, glancing at the monitor before finally meeting her eyes. She's still hurt and her rejection is blatant, but burning in the hazel depths is an anger that matches his own. _She'll do fine_, his sub-conscious comments, but he isn't in the mood for his sub-conscious.

It's cost him enough.

iii.

Amy Pond is _so_ human. Everything she does, everything she says, screams humanity. No, it doesn't scream - it roars, bellows, belts, humanity.

His lip twitch when she displays one of her naïvieties, her humanity, her ignorance to the rest of the Universe. Yes, it's frustrating and yes, it grates his nerves when he has to explain the exact same thing over and _over_ again. But, it's quaint and funny and he's addicted to their shock and awe of the Universe around them.

"_All of time and space. Everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was. Where do you wanna start?_" He asks her on one of those deceptively small days, drumming his fingers on his stomach and staring up at the vast sky. He glances over, meeting her disbelieving and slightly awed expression evenly.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth upward and he shakes his head at her, knowing from past experiences that her adorably confused expression will quickly change to one of reflexive anger and defensive irritation. It only lasts so long, of course, but the confusion and disbelief are hard to get back.

"Don't laugh at me," she snaps, pushing herself into a sitting position. Her ginger hair burns around her annoyed features, bangs flopping into her darkening eyes. "Don't you _dare_ laugh at me, Doctor."

He doesn't really hear her. He's only vaguely aware of her speaking and what her words are. Something about not laughing or like that.

No, he's far too preoccupied with trying to resist the urge to brush her hair out of her beautiful, angry eyes, and to ignore the desire for her eyes to be darkening, not with anger or annoyance, but with -

_No._

His smile falters and his stomach sinks and he blinks at her, trying to give her a cheeky grin. "Me? Laugh? At you? Noo," he shakes his head dramatically, his weak grin strengthening as his attentions turn quickly from his distracting thoughts to his glaring companion. "Ah, you humans. Get defensive so easily."

Amy slaps his arm, a scowl distorting her young features. But, he can see the humour glowing behind the glare and the grin tugging at the scowl and he remembers why he always travels with humans, not another alien.

It's their life and energy and their innocence, mixed with their strength and independence and stubbornness. Everything about them.. He just loves.

iv.

It's an elementary rule, known all over the Universe, by every race that has, will or does exist. It's a rule that, as time goes by, he seems to gradually forget. It was always in the back of his mind when he was with Rose, during both regenerations. It was with him when he kissed Martha and when he allowed Donna to come with him.

But, he is forgetting this incredibly important rule. He's letting himself and her toy with his emotions, he's letting her tow him along. He knows it's not fair, there's that _thing_ in the back of his head screaming at him to pay attention, but he can't seem to stop himself or remember that thing.

_Until_ he finds himself pushed up against the door of the TARDIS, the slim body of his companion pressing him further and further into the rough wood. Her lips are moving sensually with his, though he can't even remember kissing her back. He puts his amnesia down to the fire burning through his veins, licking hungrily and heating every part of his body - and then he thinks no more.

He grasps her hips, pulling her ever closer to him. He's burning, he's on fire with his overwhelming _need_ to feel her against him, to hear her soft gasp and appreciative sigh. He needs her, he wants her, he has to have her _all for himself_.

He's positive she wouldn't mind. The way she is leaning into him eagerly, how her hands are fisting in the soft hair at the nape of his neck and pulling in a way that should be painful but really isn't - it all tells him she really would not mind if they just left right now and never came back.

She pulls back for a breath and his eyes flicker open, darting around the room before - wait, what was that? That small red box, a ring box. _Shit, Big Nose_.

And there goes that marvelous, distracting fire, put out by water and common sense. It leaves burns and scorch marks, blistering reminders of the cardinal rule that had slipped away from him;

_If you play with fire, you'll get burned._

v.

He would really rather if she had never said anything at all, but she did and now they all have to deal with the consequences of her words. _Take us home. Now._

He almost wants to refuse her, the sturdy and selfish _no_ is on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't, though, and it changes everything. He could stop her, they both know this, but he won't.

And that is the tipping point.

"Alright." He says softly, turning away from her, putting the coordinates into the TARDIS and pulling the lever. He can't stand to face her, not when he feels like his hearts are breaking, not when he feels like everything is crashing down around him. "Okay. Back to Leadworth, yeah?"

_Say no, say you'll stay. Anyone can leave, it takes _strength_ to stay. Please stay, Amy, please._

He's waiting for her to respond but she doesn't and the silence is unbearable, pressing in on all sides. He glances over his shoulder as the TARDIS wheezes dryly, finding that neither Rory or Amy will meet his eyes or each others. Rory's face is contorted, caught viciously in between sympathy and glee.

Rory has won. They, he and the Doctor, know this. They can feel this.

Rory has won and the Doctor has lost, again. It's not the first time, but it is definitely the last.

"Leadworth," he announces as the wheezing quiets. Rory gives him an appreciative smile and Amy marches right on out, not looking back, not speaking. Rory lingers, obviously unsure of what to say or what to do, deciding to nod farewell and scuttle after his fiancée.

And that's how it ends;

The Doctor tries so hard to win and when it matters most, he loses.

He always loses.

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><p><strong>Sorry if V and IV are odd. There was a day in between IV  V and the others, so I sort of lost focus and my line of thoughts. Sorry if any of them are OOC.  
>Anyways, it's Sunday. I've got school in the morning and then <strong>_**Curse of the Black Spot**_** in the afternoon. Gonna take a snooze now.**

**SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT:  
>There will be two fics after this one, one for River and one for Rory. After that, there'll be one for when the Doctor leaves and then a nice sort-of oneshotficlet series for series six. Sort of like these, but they're all compiled into one fic.**

**Well.. I hope you enjoyed this fic. Stay tuned, lovelies, and read!  
>Yr Alban<strong>


	2. Delta

**Copyright infringement not intended.  
>Warnings: Strong language, not-from-the-UK-ness, sexuality and other mature themes.<br>Pairings: River/Eleven, Rory/Amy, Eleven/Amy, Eleven/Amy/(Rory), River/Eleven/Amy.**

**A/N: There is going to be a life changing, game changing, Earth shattering, heart breaking, jaw-dropping, totally unexpected cliffhanger in episode 7 of series 6. But, I'm sure you know that by now. Yes, of course you do. This is when the shit hits the fan, when your eyes widen and you whistle lowly, nudging the person beside you on the couch or racing to the living room, panting and half-smiling and chanting, "This shit just got **_**real**_**."  
>Yes, lovelies. It's that time, again. Just like <strong>_**Turn Left**_**and other episodes; this is the turning point. Moffat has announced that we have it allllll wrong, we've been asking the wrong things, looking in the wrong places, all of that. We're too thick. Hah.  
>Who can sniff out a plotline from thousands of miles away? Who can spot the secret and spoiler within a week of the episode's announcement? Writers.<br>What are we?  
>Writers. WE WILL WIN. Or fail miserably. Either way, I'm giving you a mission, loves.<br>Come up with the most plausible, most earth-shattering and so on, cliff hanger idea you can and you'll win.. Something. I'll PM you, who ever the winner will be, and tell you the prize. (:**

**And on with the fic. Enjoy, sweets!**

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><p>DELTA<p>

_You were always hard to hold;  
>So letting go isn't easy.<em>

* * *

><p>vi.<p>

"Doctor," her soft, supple voice breathes in his ear, her gentle breath tickling the baby fine hairs on the back of his neck. "Doctor, I missed you."

He chokes on his breath and saliva, his eyes watering with joy and sorrow. He wants to tell her he missed her too, that he still loves her, that he never stopped and never will. He wants to wrap his arms around her and never let go.

But he can't.

She pulls away from him, her warm eyes shining sadly at him with that never-ending love and compassion. Her honey hair whips in the wind, lashing against his face. "I love _you_," she whispers, her voice almost inaudible. "Not him."

He wants to speak _so_ badly. He wants to tell her about Amy and all the mishaps there and Rory and his abnormally large nose and how the two of them remind him of herself and Mickey. He wants to say her name, like it's the only thing that keeps him alive.

"Ro-"

He can't. His throat clenches around the word - the magnificent word - and his hearts thunder in his chest. His mind supplies him with other names, ones that ripple through his veins and crack his damaged soul further.

_Donna._

_Reinette._

_Sarah Jane._

_Martha_.

_Astrid_.

_Lady Catherine_.

_Captain Jack_.

_Amy._

She gives him that sad smile of her's and tucks her golden hair behind her ears, taking another step back. _No!_ He wants to shout. _No, stay!_

"My Doctor. My Lonely Angel." She shakes her head, continuing to walk backward slowly. "Amy's looking for you. I have to go now."

_No, no, no! _Please_ stay! Please, Rose! Stay with-_

The Doctor wakes with a jolt, meeting a pair of hazel eyes, bright with concern. "Doctor?" Amy murmurs, her fiery hair tickling his cheek. "You alright? You were mumbling in your sleep. Something about someone named Rose."

He gives her a silly grin and pushes himself up, making her take a small step back. It's obvious she doesn't want to leave him, her concern and love for him triumphant over her common sense. "Me? Yeah, I'm alright," he says off-handedly, nonchalantly. "I'm always alright."

_"Is `alright´special Time Lord code for `really not alright at all´?"_

vii.

It's all he ever wanted for her, this peaceful and happy life with Rory. She deserves it after everything she's been through. After everything _they've_ been through.

They deserve it.

With this in mind, he smiles wistfully at the dancing pair, his hearts aching as they try to contain the pride and happiness (lie). "_Two thousand years,_" he says to himself, shaking his head slightly at the love that surrounds them. "_The Boy Who Waited. Good on ya, mate._"

Rory pulls away from his new wife, kissing her softly, sweetly. Amy wraps her arms around him, holding him tightly against her slight frame as he buries his nose in her curls.

_The Girl Who Waited._

Amy, with her fiestiness and her fierceness and her stubbornness and _humanity_. How can anyone not love her? How can anyone hurt her?

How can _he_, the Doctor, the Oncoming Storm, the Lonely Angel, the Last of the Time Lords, not love her?

_The Boy Who Waited._

Rory, with his niceness and his heart-feltness and his trusting and his open heart. Is there anyone else more deserving of their dreams? Is there any man who didn't deserve a calm, quiet life more than Rory?

No, not really.

His lips twist into a gruesome half-smile, looking more forced than it should. "Time to go," he murmurs, not expecting anyone to hear him but needing to say these words, to hear _himself_ say it and bring closure. "Bye bye, Ponds. Live well. Love each other."

He turns, unable to watch anymore of the newlyweds and their happy family, and slips out of the reception hall. In the entire walk back to the TARDIS, he has but one thought;

_The Boy and Girl Who Waited._

_Was it worth it?_

viii.

"Do you love her?" Rory asks, his olive green eyes flickering to his wife. The Doctor gives him a warning look, fiddling with the blue boringers. "No, seriously, Doctor. Do you love her?"

_Yes. No. Rassilon, I don't know. Why are you asking?_

He shrugs, glancing at the gorgeous ginger on the other side of the control room. She's reading a book, her brows furrowed as her eyes dart from left to right. "Why? It's a bit late to be asking this question, Rory," he reminds him, looking away from Big Nose's wife. "Scratch that - very late to be asking. Why now?"

Rory shrugs, now, trying to appear nonchalant and failing. The doubt and suspicion is blatantly obvious in the way he moves and how his eyes drift from the Doctor and Amy. "No reason," he brushes off.

Yeah, sure.

"Rory." The Doctor warns, shooting him a dark look. "Why now? Why are you asking me this today?"

_What has she said?_

"You two spent a lot of time alone together, in here. I'm her husband, I have a right to know if -"

He snorts, cutting off the worried man rather rudely. He doesn't really care, though, because Rory has guessed at what the Doctor is trying very hard not to accept. "Rory, I assure you, nothing has or ever will happen between Amy and I. Welll..." He gives him an apologetic grimace. "Besides that kiss that time."

The kiss that changed everything for them.

"So.. Nothing's going on?" Rory asks, sounding nervous and anxious. Almost exactly what the Doctor is feeling at the moment, being questioned by Rory and feeling Amy's eyes on him, no longer chasing words.

They're all waiting for an answer - himself, Rory and Amy. The TARDIS is deathly quiet, everyone and everything just _waiting_.

He smirks to himself and shakes his head for Rory and Amy. "Nothing's going on, Rory. Relax."

(and he pretends he doesn't hear Rory's relieved sigh or Amy's breath hitch or his scratched and dented heart fall to the glass floor, shattering completely.)

ix.

Sometimes, he thinks of what might have been. If he hadn't been twelve years late. If he had waited for Amy, again.

They might have gotten together. He might have fallen harder, she might have fallen deeper. They might have gotten knee-deep in each other and realized that they never had to leave.

Or, Rory might have stopped her. Rory might have came along. Rory might have proposed, then and there.

He might have had to watch. He might have had to feel his hearts break two years early. He might have realized _not everyone is like Rose and Mickey_.

Sometimes, he thinks of what might have been. If he hadn't been twelve years late. If he had waited for Amy, again.

But, the truth is... He had been twelve years late and he hadn't waited for Amy, again. He was late, twice. He didn't wait for Amy.

And now, he has to face the consequence of his poor punctuality and impatience - Rory Williams.

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><p><strong>Ergh.<br>Just.. Ergh. Like the first two, but the last two? ... Ergh.  
>Welllll... Tell me what you think! Revieww, my loves, and don't forget the missioncompetition!  
>Sorry if it's OOC, by the way..<br>(Has anyone saw that series 6 trailer with the delicious Amy and Doctor scene? The one where he's saying, "**_**Whatever happens, however far, however hard, we **_**will **_**find you,"**_** and he cups her cheek?  
>Ha-haa, can't wait! Pretty sure it's 6x07.)<br>Look out for the next in the series, **_**Truth and Fiction**_**. Until then,  
>Yr Alban.<strong>


	3. Author's Note: IMPORTANT!

**Big, big news!**

**For all of us Canadians or Americans or Brits stranded in North America and saying, **_**what the hell is Memorial Day, again?**_

**There is help. There is a solution. Doctor Who always finds a way.**

**So, on Sunday or late Saturday, go to this site and search up **_**Doctor Who**_**. Find the newest episode. Enjoy.**

**(just take away the commas.)**

**http, : , / , / , w, w, w, watch series , dot , eu.**

**If that doesn't work, I'll pm the reviewers of this fic and all my other DW fics the link and put it up in my profile. The same rule applies for A Good Man Goes to War.**

**Heres to wondering why Space and BBCA can't air TAP on Sunday or Monday and AGMGTW on 4 June.**

_**Yr Alban**_**.**


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